This past week has been a bit tough on me emotionally. There was the verdict in Ferguson, the politics as usual, rape culture, misogyny, greed, illusion. Then of course there are always my own stresses and concerns. At one point I had to shut down the news and social media sites because it was all weighing too heavily on my heart. I had the luxury of stepping out. And when I returned, I came back to happiness, families, cooking and the opening of Holiday Season.

And then death, again. Much closer to home. Too close to home.

I had tried to turn away from the drama playing out in the world. I had tried to turn away from the pain I felt at all the injustices that were beyond my comprehension. I had tried to pretend that if we can just bake some pies everything would be okay, at least for me, in that moment. The outside world couldn’t touch me. I can’t even count all the close calls we’ve had this past year and somehow we made it through, not necessarily unhurt but unharmed. Everyday the illness and guns and bombs and violence and death would travel on down the road and miss my house. But this time as I watched it all pass by my window, someone turned around and looked at me.

I understand all too well that death walks among us everyday, holding the hand of life. But to know something and to experience something are too awfully different things.

Seeing the joys of the season contrasted against the backdrop of immeasurable pain and injustice is horrifying to me and leaves me at a loss.

What I do know is that I am no longer allowed to sit inside my home and continue to watch from the window. The pain of one is the pain of all. Today I will hug my babies. I will hug them so hard and remember all the Mama’s who can no longer hug theirs. I will grieve and be grateful. Grateful that I am still here, still breathing and therefore still able to make a change. Each day I will wake up and try again. And try again. And try again.